Welcome Charlie Cochrane today

Welcome to Dawn’s Reading Nook, Charlie. Please let my cabana boys/girls get you a drink and make yourself at home. Comfortable? Great…now let’s get down to business.

Q: For the readers out there who might not know about you or your work, can you please tell them a little about yourself.

I write gay fiction, usually romantic, often historical and sometimes with a mystery element. My work tends to have a humorous (and slightly eccentric) thread running through it, which reflects the author’s slightly eccentric, humorous tendencies.

As for me, I’m a happily married mother of three lovely girls (I have to say that or they’ll bash me) who’s mad about books, sport, animals and history and passionate about the Christian faith. (By which I mean what Jesus taught but don’t get me started on that!)

Q: Are you a by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of writer, or do you have to use an outline to put your collective thoughts into some semblance of common sense?

I’m a pantser all the way. My average plot outline is no more than a sentence and a setting; I start to work and see what emerges. Quite often I write in a jigsaw way, creating scenes throughout the story then pasting them together. The only notes I keep are those I produce as I go along and quite often they’re just a list of questions that I have to go back over and clarify.

Q: Tell us all about your latest or upcoming release. What inspired it?

Home Fires Burning was inspired by two things. The second story of the pair, a light hearted romp featuring two professional actors who get dragged into solving a crime, comes from the serial crime programmes I used to listen to on the radio as a child.

The first story (the one the excerpt comes from) is much darker and sprang out of my love for WWI poetry and poets. The heartbreaking story of Wilfred Owen and his stunning verses have made me want to write so much set around that war and the men who fought in it.

Q: What is one thing readers might be surprised to know about you?

That I’m highly respectable, really. I do freelance work training school governors, am in the early stages or recruiting a new Head teacher for the place where I’m Chair of governors and have recently been asked to join the Executive board for a school in difficulties. I very occasionally sign e-mails as Charlie which always confuses people.

Oh, and the readers might be surprised to know that I like rugby, as I keep that fact very quiet. J

Q: If we asked your muse to describe you in three words, what do you think they might say?

Batty, scatty, occasionally ratty. (Sorry, that’s 33% over word count!)

Q: What authors can be found in your library of books (print, audio or e-books)?

I’m strictly a print girl, with a smattering of audio. You’ll find Patrick O’Brian, classic murder mysteries, Jerome K Jerome, lots of books about rugby and cricket and quite a smattering of history. And funny stuff, like Dilbert, beachcomber or James Thurber. Eclectic, I’d say.

Q: Have any guilty pleasures you want to share with us?

Scalding hot baths, lots of bubbles, a nice book to read. Having my Sky box on the interactive setting and flicking between three rugby matches, much to Mr C’s consternation.

Q: Is there anything you’re currently working on that you can give us a taste of?

I always have various works in progress, in any state from half a page of ideas to 24000 words of plotless pandemonium. Here’s a snippet from something which is hopefully going to end up as a solve old mystery/ghost story thing. (See? I’m a pantser to the last!)

Morgan turned the letter in his hands. Pointless exercise, really; whichever way up it was it would still read the same.

“It isn’t you, it’s me.”

Trust James to have ended it all with a cliché. Maybe he’d typed “Dear John letters” into the search engine, cut and pasted them, changed the John for Morgan and copied it out longhand. At least he’d had the grace to write the thing by hand even if that seemed to be the only effort at personalising things.

“It’s been great, all of it, but people change. We’ve grown, and not in the same direction.”

The James he’d known wouldn’t have been able to draft such eloquent thoughts, not without his secretary taking his notes and making them into something impressive. Please God she hadn’t been allowed anywhere near this. The simple but expressive, “I’m bored with you so I’m buggering off,” would have been more in his line, or, “You’re no longer the spring chicken who caught my eye. I couldn’t be seen going out with a thirty year old. No good for the image, dear.”

Morgan had always suspected that James always had half an eye on whether there was anything better about. Like a pet, loving and seemingly grateful to its owner, but ready to push off and relocate if a better household could be found. Morgan’s family had once had a cat like that; he didn’t think he’d have ended up with a boyfriend who’d show the same proclivities.

“I won’t insult you by asking if we can remain friends although I hope some day we can be civil enough to share a pint. For old times sake.”

So that you can tell me all about your latest bloke? Like you used to tell me about Jonny and how he’d only been some sort of practice run for the real thing? No thank you. Morgan sighed. He wasn’t ready to be civil. Especially after three years of James hinting that the real thing might just be him. That was a load of crap, wasn’t it? Like all the other crap James had been spouting these last few months. Why had it taken Morgan so long to realize he’d been strung along?

Q: When creating your characters, do you have models in mind or are they totally fictional? (You can attach a picture of one of your character inspirations if you like)

Jamie Bamber has been the inspiration for many of my characters, both in terms of looks (Jonty is a dead ringer for the younger JB) and also for his intellect. I like clever, sexy men. I’ve also been inspired by Francisco Bosch, the dancer, and Tommy Bowe the rugby player. I also have characters who I see quite clearly in my mind, but I’ve no idea where or who the appearance has come from.

However, once we get into the matter of personality traits, my characters soon diverge from their “models”.

Q: Are you in control of your characters or do they control you?

Hm. We have a relationship of mutual respect. I let them have as much free rein as they want, so long as they don’t go beyond the boundaries (of taste, morality or my patience!) In return they have to promise to be interesting and never act out of character (unless there’s a good reason). It usually works...

Q: If you came with a warning label, what would it say?

Liable to see the funny side of anything – watch out for explosions of giggling.

Q: Please tell us where we can find you on the web.

My website is here, www.charliecochrane.co.uk and my blog’s over at Live journal.
http://charliecochrane.livejournal.com

Thanks for popping by and I wish you continued success in your writing career.

Thanks, Dawn. It’s always a pleasure to be part of your online life. To quote the mother of one of my favorite sit-com characters, Miranda, “Such fun!”

 

Title: Excerpt (PG15) Home Fires Burning (m/m historical)

Buy links:

http://www.amazon.com/Home-Fires-Burning-ebook/dp/B005JER3K2, http://www.amazon.com/dp/098282677X and all the usual sources.

Blurb:

Two stories, two couples, two eras, timeless emotions.

Excerpt from 'This Ground Which was Secured at Great Expense', a bittersweet story set against the backdrop of WWI:

“You have to go home. You must be mad to want to stay here.” Phillip smoothed his chin, easing fingers over the parts the razor had left raw.

“There’s no one at home to go to. You know I’ve no close family.” Nicholas stared at the letter from Colonel Johnstone, the one which virtually ordered him to get home and take a rest. There was little point in staying if Phillip had gone, anyway; better to go back to Hampshire and try to keep his hands to himself when he met Paul.

Phillip had been given leave, too and he seemed alight with some private, inner glow. “How about you? What have you planned?” Nicholas asked the question for formality’s sake; the thought of Phillip enjoying a passionate reunion with some chit of a thing burned into his dreams, torturing his sleeping self.

“I’ll be seeing family, of course, and…” Phillip considered his face in the mirror once more. Nicholas suddenly realised he was playing for time, weighing up his options. He’d seen that expression before—it spoke of utter candour. “And I have someone waiting for me, someone I’m very close to.”

Nicholas had to fill the silence that clung to the coattails of that bald statement. “Not like you not to have mentioned her before.” The strain in his voice seemed amplified by the tension which had descended between them.

“I didn’t feel entirely sure I could, not up until now.” Phillip finished his toilet and rolled down his sleeves. He turned, fixing the full piercing glare of his green eyes on his fellow officer. “You’re a good man in a tight corner. Reliable. Can I rely on you now?”

“Of course.” Nicholas awaited the revelation, the great secret he was to be entrusted with. Was Phillip laying siege to some other officer’s wife, sapping her resolve and providing comfort while her man was miles away? If so, it was little wonder he wanted to get home.

“It’s not a girl, at home. It’s a man. Yes, I know I’m a bloody idiot telling you, but I trust you with my life, Nicholas. Have done every day since I got posted here. You’re not going to shop me, are you?” Phillip ran his hands through his dark hair. “Not sure it wouldn’t be worse if you told my parents than if you told the Colonel. He’d probably be more sympathetic so long as I’m not buggering Miller.” 

The unaccustomed coarseness made Nicholas wince, although he was sure its origin was nothing but Phillip’s nerves masquerading as bravado. “I had no idea.” Weak words, stupid sounding once they hit the air, yet it was all he could manage. If only he’d known, he might have said something. Sooner.

“I’m hardly likely to advertise it, am I? Fergal’s a good sort—he’s an engineer, working on ships’ engines for Vospers. Wants to get to sea himself, the idiot.” The deep affection apparent in Phillip’s voice cut into Nicholas’s heart. He’d never heard him speak this way, even about his family.